


My Master’s Eyes

by ScarletWillows



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Cloud Strife, Boypussy, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cussing, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Emotional Manipulation, Endgame Polyamory, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Forced Bonding, Forced Pregnancy, Foursomes, Friends to Lovers, Futa Cloud, Group Sex, Harem, Hermaphrodites, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Sephiroth, Intersex Character, Intersex Cloud Strife, King - Freeform, King Sephiroth, Lifestream magic, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Male futa, Master/Slave, Mild underage, Mildly Out of Character, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Pregnancy Kink, Psychological Trauma, Rainbow Baby, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slash, Slave Cloud, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Threesomes, Top Sephiroth, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, Yaoi, authority kink, dark themes, dubcon, endgame Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud, forced situations, herm Cloud, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-02-16
Updated: 2007-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletWillows/pseuds/ScarletWillows
Summary: Sephiroth, the mysterious and powerful king of Midgar, has conquered the minds of men, the lands of Gaia, and even the shadows of Death for over five centuries. But his only true mission is to fulfill his goddess-mother's wish – for him to find his destined mate, the last of an ancient race blessed with Jenova's gifts.After many ages of searching, will his life's obsession come to fruition in the form of a young slave? Will Sephiroth, an emotionless tyrant, be able to recognize Jenova’s blessing under his very nose? Or will he squander his chances for real love?
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	My Master’s Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Warnings** : This story does not follow canon and should be considered a medieval harem Alternate Universe. This story contains graphic depictions of sexual situations (read the tags for full details) and dark themes.

If any of the above triggers you or you’re not of legal age, then you should not be reading this story. Since you have been warned, I will not take blame for your ignorance or prejudice.

As an English major, I make a huge effort to catch spelling and grammatical errors, but constructive criticism is welcome.

**Pairings** : Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud, and a surplus of other non-major harem-themed pairings involving Vincent, Reno, and Tseng.

**Author’s Notes** : This has been edited as of 1/17/20 to reflect my current style. I started this, like, over ten years ago and my style has changed as I’ve matured as a writer. FF7 has been my absolute favorite fandom since I was a teen and Sephiroth/Cloud are my OTP - it’s a wonder I haven’t written more fics about them!

** My Master's Eyes **

** By Scarlet Willows **

** Chapter One **

If life had taught me one thing, it was that it could have been far worse.

At the very least, I was not forced to sleep on the hard, dirty stone floor. Instead, it was a somewhat mixed blessing that I was given a straw-filled mat that - though it poked me in odd places and had definitely seen better days - was much more forgiving than the floor.

If the straw mat was slightly itchy, it was nothing compared to the drab uniform robe that I'd had the misfortune of donning. My only consolation was the fact that it was free of lice and fleas. At least it was heavy enough to keep me fairly warm against the harsh Nibelheim climate that wound its way under drafty doorways and rafters. An attendant gave me a clean uniform at the end of the month.

Thankfully I had a chamber pot, which was taken to be emptied once a day (I didn't relish the attendant's job). There was, unfortunately a smell to contend with, however it was nothing compared to the rumored horror of group latrines - basically benches with holes.

Even the food, if it could be called that, wasn't something to readily scoff at. I forced myself to gag down the mysterious bland bowl of glop pushed under the slot in my cell. But, at least, it was a meal that I could guarantee twice a day.

A wash basin was passed through my food slot every other week. The cold water was less than fresh, as several individuals had made use of it before me. The disfigured bar of lye that accompanied the water was ruthless on the skin, but it was adequate for the task. I struggled to keep my mind from focusing on other places the soap had been.

It was a lesser evil when weighed against group baths. I'd heard stories that other male slaves would, to put it kindly, take advantage of…someone of my build and stature in the common wash rooms. Sometimes even the guards would join in. I didn't want to imagine what the women had to endure. It was probably because of this abuse that the slavers instituted the basins to guarantee the purity of the slaves and boost sale prices.

At least I was cleaner than most.

It was a mixed blessing that I had always been short and petite for my age, since the cage cells were small. I only had to stretch my arms to touch either side, but I could stand comfortably. The cells were lined against the walls, packed together on either end of the corridor, locked with barred doors so patrons could pass by and easily canvas the "selected wares". There were several "showcase rooms" like this one, so there was no telling how many poor souls this slave house held. At least I didn’t have to share my space.

I'd heard a lot of other slave houses couldn't boast about the aforementioned…luxuries.

So I counted my small blessings and considered myself one of the luckier ones. A surplus of other slaves around the world didn't have life half as nice as I did.

Like I said, it could have been worse.

I think there must have been some type of organization as to where we were placed to make selection easier for buyers. I'd even seen a catalog of slave profiles when I'd first entered this place; after I'd been examined by a healer, they'd asked me questions while a scribe recorded information about my appearance, health, age, skills, sexual experiences (or, in my case, lack of), and such. My young life had been condensed onto a single sheaf of parchment. Whatever their organization system was, I knew I was being held with the more exotic selections.

It was a struggle to keep myself entertained in my cramped cell with only the wooden beams to stare at. I didn't have much interest in conversing with my neighbors - what was the point if they would be sold within a few days - but I did listening to their rumors. It kept things in perspective for me. So I was content to bide my time and learn.

Many had come from other slave houses or been resold from abusive masters. Others told of scandal from Kalm and how the slaves were trained to enjoy pain. The meager slave house of Nibelheim wasn't as specialized as some of the higher class houses of Junon or Costa del Sol, but I supposed we had a fair enough selection. Of course it fell to reason that the pretty ones never stayed long. They were usually classified as the pleasure slaves, the concubines, and had a significantly higher price. The less-than-attractive ones were usually bought by farmers for labor. They were called plodders or drudges.

There was a petty, yet humorous argument amongst the slaves as to which "job title" was worse; the plodders who felt the sweat of their backs from their works, plowing in the fields…or the concubines, who lie on their backs and felt the sweat of another as they're…plowed. I couldn't help but feel sorrier for the concubines; more often than not they were sold to nobles who were…more on the plump side. It seems the richer one is, the more one can afford to eat.

It was stories like these that helped me count each minor blessing and made me grateful to be in this particular slave house. While it was not a palatial resort, the traders were not overtly cruel.

To say that the majority of the day was spent in boredom would have been an understatement. To pass the time I counted the lines in the wood and the dents in the stone. I even took to sharing a minuscule portion of my food with the little brown field-mouse that scurried into my cell in the afternoons, blinking big cocoa eyes at me. I pondered that she had a few other mouths to feed while she let me scratch behind her round, perky ears. I poured out my troubles to her as she munched on my leftovers, cleaning her whiskers afterwards. If only I could come and go as easily as she. Most days I imagined that I was her.

I spent most nights fighting off the cold while, in my dreams, I battled a darkness that held green, snake-like eyes. I'd had the dreams ever since I could remember. But in my weakness, the terrifyingly beautiful eyes of the enigma-predator continued to haunt me, violating me in the most private of ways. I'd wake up suddenly in a cold sweat, heart throbbing within my chest as if I'd been running. Perhaps I was running...running from the man with the viper's eyes.

Sometimes it wasn't so bad…sometimes I'd remember his voice...though, it was muffled and shielded in the dream. It was...more of a feeling than a sound, his voice. Like a distant memory, I knew it was as deep as the ocean and the words he whispered were as soft as the sky. I could never recall his words in the waking realm.

It was on those nights that his eyes were gentle and I woke unhurriedly, drifting smoothly into consciousness. And…I couldn't help the craving I felt. Craving for what, I did not know, but I could feel it in my gut, driving the fear away and replacing it with intrigue.

But beyond my boredom and dreams, nothing of note took place. Really, the dreams were a relief if anything from the dullness and that was saying something! The only stirring thing that happened was when a patron came to purchase a slave, money jingling in their pockets. The traders fought not to lick their greedy lips. Those days were both exciting and dreadful. The slave house wasn't the best place in the world, but it was secure and our needs were met. A future master was always a wild card…one wasn't guaranteed fair treatment.

The slave house was familiar. The slave house was safe.

I thanked Gaia that my section didn't receive a lot of traffic. I could chalk it up to my…curious circumstances. My saving grace, I reasoned, was that customers probably didn't have the pallet for my…unusual flavor. I could count the patrons that had peered into my cell on one hand. Each experience had been terrifying in its own right: sitting under the heavy gaze of a stranger as he criticized my being, debating if I was worth one hundred gold coins. That's all my life amounts to, I'd realized with a bitter thought, a measly one hundred pieces of metal.

At least the price had been high enough that they'd decided against buying me. On the whole, I tried not to attract attention and so far my strategy had worked quite efficiently. However, it seemed that luck was not on my side today.

* * *

"Don' get many foreigners in these parts. But wha' can I do fer ye, Sir? Can I int'rest ye in a plate o' fruit an' bread, or perhaps a drink?" the trader asked in his uncultured and heavily accented drawl. Eyeing the good-looking newcomer's strange, but obviously expensive, garb, Jondab calculated how much he could overcharge. He could probably sell a slave for twice the amount to this blond foreigner and the man wouldn't be the wiser. It's not like he'd miss the money anyways.

"I'd like to have a look at your merchandise straight away," said the nobleman briskly, moving further into the foyer and shaking off the cold. He brushed the snow from his short blond tresses, and handed his cloak to an attendant.

"Yes, o' course," the trader bowed, attempting to brownnose, flashing a yellowing grin that lacked two front teeth. "Righ' this way, Sir. I am Jondab, the proprietor of this fine establishment," he announced with a heavy dose of swagger - obviously proud that he'd been able to work the words "proprietor" and "establishment" into the conversation. "If qual'ty be what ye're lookin' fer, ye've come to the righ' place! I can guarantee tha' ye'll find no finer slave house for a hundred miles with as wide of an assortment as ours! We've a healer on staff an' all the slaves are checked often for sicknesses. We have workers, fighters, an' breeders, virgins an' pleasurers. We even have some from Wutai and Gongaga. Of course, if yer tastes are a little more…out of the ordinary, I could point ye in tha' direction as well. Would ye care t' browse?" Jondab asked, stopping near the entrance to the interior seating room. A few patrons lounged on fairly plush, if not slightly worn, divans, drinking ale and listening to a slave play the lyre.

As a son of the noble house of Shinra, he wouldn’t be caught dead socializing with these common denizens. The blond made a derisive face before turning to the stout, unwashed fellow. "What I'm looking for is quite rare," the foreigner enunciated, skeptical that this second-rate slave trader would even have an inkling as to what he was looking for.

Jondab nodded understandingly, though, his interest piqued, leaning closer as if the foreigner was sharing some sort of secret. The nobleman sneered, but allowed the conspirator illusion if it maintained his privacy. "I wonder if you could tell me, master Jondab…" the term was something forced, "would you happen to have any males blessed with…Jenova's gifts?" Jondab looked a little confused, so the foreigner, fighting back a sigh, substituted the slang term and watched as understanding filled the trader's eyes. "Er, any male breeders?"

"Ah! Now tha' narrows it down a bit. Yer in luck! Our slave house has a higher collection of male breeders than even Junon!" A claim which the foreigner highly doubted. "Currently, we have five. However, two are reserved. Why, we had a fresh new addition come in not jus' two months ago! A native of Nibelheim even. Would ye like t' take a look?"

"Yes, thank you," the nobleman nodded his head to Jondab and prepared to follow the trader down the torch-lit corridor off to the right.

* * *

To be continued…

Updated on 1/17/20.

Cross posted on FanFiction.Net under the same pen name.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates could be very slow while I work on other stories, but be sure to stay posted.  
> Reviews are crack that fuel my greedy muse.  
> XOXO,  
> Scarlet Willows


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